Ties That Bind
by Ink Outside the Lines
Summary: For as long as Isadora could remember, the name Dean Winchester had been scrawled on the inside of her right wrist. Now she was seeing him for the first time, but not in the way she expected. He was on the news, wanted for murder. Isadora didn't know how her soulmate could be a serial killer, but she made up her mind right there. She wanted nothing to do with Dean Winchester.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Quick note on timing, this is set in season two, not long after episode 13 but before the events of episode 14. Also, fair warning, updates on this one will probably be sporadic.

* * *

Dean let his gaze skim over the crowd at the bar as he waited for his drink. The place had a decent crowd, which he hoped was a good sign for the quality of the food. _Nice to finally be somewhere._

Sam was only just easing up on the lockdown he'd insisted on ever since that mess at the bank. If Dean was being honest, laying low made an amount of sense. He was wanted by the FBI as a serial killer and attempted bank robber. But that had been several weeks ago, and they were in a different state now. What were the chance that anyone would recognize him? Dean was to loosen the reins and dive back into work.

 _No better way than hunting down a nest of vamps._

Well, probably vampires. They weren't a hundred percent sure yet, but the signs were clear enough.

"Here you go," the bartender said, passing him a glass. Dean thanked him and took the drink. He turned from the bar to head back to the table he and Sam had claimed, but had to draw up short to avoid running over a young woman that had been walking behind him. She drew back with a startled gasp.

"Sorry about that," Dean said with an apologetic smile.

She looked up at him, and Dean immediately noticed how pretty she was. Hazel eyes framed by dark lashes, dark brown hair that tumbled down past her shoulders, and full lips painted pink. When she met his gaze, her eyes widened, her face went pale and then flushed. Then she pasted on an obviously fake smile and said, "No worries." She brushed past him, walking away with steps just a bit too quick to be casual.

Dean watched her go with a frown. _Okay, that was weird._ What reason could she possibly have to be afraid of him? He was sure they'd never met before.

 _No. No way._

She went to a table on the other side of the bar's dining area that held several other people. She spoke briefly to another woman as she picked up a jacket and purse hanging off the back of an empty chair. Pulling on the jacket, she headed for the door.

 _That doesn't look good._

It might be nothing. Maybe he just reminded her of an old ex or something. Or just maybe Sam was right, and the chances of someone recognizing him were much higher than Dean had wanted to believe.

Dean set his drink down on the bar and followed after the woman, though at a slightly slower pace. When he stepped out into the cool night air, he spotted the woman dialing someone on her phone as she rounded the corner of the building. The area was deserted, so Dean followed quicker this time, hoping to catch what she was saying.

"Hi, yes, I need to report a sighting of that serial killer, Dean Winchester."

 _Shit._

He had to stop her. He dashed around the corner, and she whirled around at the sound to face him. She let out a startled yelp and her phone slipped out of her hand and clattered to the pavement. Dean took a step towards her and she scrambled backwards. Her foot stumbled over something, and she fell with a cry that was quickly silenced when her head hit the ground.

Dean cursed as he knelt over her. She wasn't moving, but there was no blood, and when he pressed his fingers to her neck he could feel a steady pulse. Probably concussed, but at least she was still alive.

"Miss? Are you alright?" came the voice of the 911 operator from her phone.

Dean reached over and turned it off before chucking it into the bar's nearby trash can. He looked back down at the woman. What was he supposed to do with her? He couldn't just leave her laying there, and he couldn't let her go either, not while he and Sam were trying to work a case in the area.

No, he could only see one solution, terrible as it was. _Sammy is going to kill me._ Dean picked her up, glad that she was tiny since it made this easier. After one last check to make sure the parking lot was still clear, Dean headed for the Impala.

* * *

"Dean, are you insane?"

"What else was I supposed to do, Sammy?"

"I don't know, how about not kidnap an innocent woman?"

Isadora cringed at the throbbing in her head, which wasn't helped by the sounds of the two unfamiliar voices arguing. She whimpered as she opened her eyes, trying to figure out where she was. She was lying in the backseat of a car, her left hand handcuffed to the door. Two men were in the front, and it took her fuzzy memory a moment to remind her what had happened.

 _Dean Winchester!_

She'd run into him at the bar, in what was probably the worst case of bad luck in her life. Of course she'd recognized him, though they'd never met in person before. A person didn't really forget seeing the face of their soulmate on the news as they were announced as a serial killer, and one with a penchant for torturing their victims.

Isadora's heart sped up. _Does he know?_

No, he couldn't. The handcuff was on her left arm, and she was still wearing her jacket and the wide bracelet on her right. No way could he have seen.

"She's waking up. Hey are you okay?"

Isadora blinked as she forced her eyes to focus on the guy in the passenger seat. He was looking back at her with an expression of concern on his face.

Was she okay? Her head hurt, she was probably concussed, and she was being kidnapped by a serial killer.

"Are you kidding me?"

He winced, probably realizing just how stupid his question had sounded.

Isadora struggled to push herself into a sitting position with her left arm at an awkward angle, but immediately regretted the action as the lights flashing by made her headache worse and her stomach churn. She slumped back down in the seat so she couldn't see out the window. "I'm going to be sick."

"Hey, hey, no!" Dean said. "You do not get sick in my car!"

She was tempted to let herself be sick just to spite him, but she didn't know how far they were going, and she didn't want to have to ride with that smell for long. It took some effort, but Isadora fought down the nausea.

"Would you like some water?" the other man offered.

Isadora squinted up at him. "No." Like she was going to trust anything they gave her. They were probably planning to murder her, and she wasn't going to make it easier on them by accepting drugged water or food.

 _Bad as I feel right now, they probably don't need to drug me._

Silence fell over the car for a moment. Isadora's eyes drifted shut. She should be trying to think of a way to escape, but with her pounding head, all she really wanted to do was sleep. "Hey." Her eyes jerked open when she felt the guy's hand on her shoulder.

He pulled back when he saw she was awake. "Sorry, but I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. You shouldn't be sleeping."

Isadora glared up at him. What did he care about her health? "Are you this considerate of all your murder victims?" It was probably stupid to antagonize them, but if they were planning to kill her anyway, what did she have to lose?

"Woah, okay," Dean said, "we are not murderers."

She switched her glare to the back of Dean's head, the only part of him that she could see from her current position. "I saw the news stories about you!" She'd seen footage of the hostage situation at the bank first, which had led to her searching for any other information about Dean. What she'd found about the other murders attributed to him had made her feel sick, and not just because of the horrific details.

Soulmates were supposed to be a perfect match. They were supposed to be the person that one loved above any other. What did it say about Isadora, that her soulmate was a serial killer?

She tried not to think about it.

"Yeah, well they got it wrong," Dean snapped. "I was framed, okay? I'm not a murderer, and no one is planning to kill you."

"Then why am I here?" Isadora asked, jangling the handcuff for emphasis. "Why'd you attack me?"

"I didn't attack you! You tripped and hit your head! It's not my fault if you're a klutz."

Isadora huffed. "Right. You just followed me for totally innocent reasons. You weren't planning to hurt me or anything."

"I wasn't!" Dean protested.

"You didn't have a plan at all," the other guy muttered.

"Hey! I – okay, fine, I didn't."

"That's what I thought. I'm Sam, by the way," the other guy said. "You know who Dean is, obviously. What's your name?"

Isadora hesitated for a heartbeat. It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse to answer at all, but it wouldn't do to have them digging into who she was. She didn't know what Dean would do if he found out the truth, and frankly, she didn't want to know.

"Rose," she answered. She was glad for the first time that middle names weren't included in soul marks. Otherwise she'd have to remember a name that wasn't hers at all, and that was another headache she didn't need to deal with.

She could feel the vehicle slowing down as they made a left turn, and then they came to a complete stop. She didn't realize that they'd made it to their destination though until Dean turned the car off.

"Look," Dean said, "we don't want to hurt you or anything. But we need to be in town a couple days, and we don't need you calling people and making things more complicated. So here's the deal; you're going to stay with us while we work our case, and when we leave town we'll let you go."

There was a moment of silence and Isadora realized he was waiting for a response. "You actually expect me to agree with my kidnappers?"

Sam winced at her question, and Isadora noted that he was probably the one with more of a conscious out of the two of them. She might be able to make use of that. Dean sighed. "Just don't scream and don't try to run."

They got out the car, and Isadora pushed herself up into a sitting position. The view outside the window wasn't promising. They were in the poorly lit parking lot of a motel so run down that she wouldn't have been shocked to find out it was actually closed. The warning not to scream was really unnecessary. The area looked deserted. Even if Isadora did scream, there was no one to hear her.

Dean opened her door, tugging Isadora's arm with it, courtesy of the handcuffs. He unlocked the cuff and stepped back so she had room to get out of the car, though not enough room to try and make a run for it. _Not sure where he thinks I'm going to run to. There's nothing around_.

Isadora stood, but she moved too quickly for her aching head and wobbled. Dean's arm curled around her to keep her upright. "Geez, you're clumsy."

She glared up at him, though the dim lighting made the expression ineffective. Isadora wasn't clumsy, earlier accident aside. She didn't correct him though. If he wanted to underestimate her, well that could only work to her benefit in the long run.

Dean kept his arm around her holding her close to help her make it to the motel. _He's tall_. She'd vaguely noticed that earlier, but it hadn't really sunk in until this moment. She'd always hoped that her soulmate would be tall.

 _Nope! No, no, no! Not interested in murderers!_

Isadora refused to allow herself to get attached to him. Screw what her soul mark said. She wouldn't allow herself to be connected with Dean just because of some accident of fate.

Still, she'd been so curious about her soulmate for so long, it was hard _not_ to notice the things she'd wondered about.

Sam led the way to their room, giving Isadora her first good look at him, and she was dismayed to realize that he was even bigger than Dean. _I don't think I'm getting away from these guys._ At least, not while they were around. She'd have to hope that they didn't kill her right away and left her alone.

 _Julie will have noticed I'm gone by now. I told her I was just going outside to make a call. Plus, I got cut off in the middle of a call with 911. That has to make them suspicious, right?_

But as she was led into the rundown motel room, the thought failed to make Isadora feel better. Dean led her to the bed furthest from the window and snapped the handcuff on the wooden headboard. Once she was secured, he caught her chin in one hand and tipped her head back saying, "Hey, look at me."

Isadora glared at him, but didn't try to jerk away because sudden movements probably wasn't a good idea at the moment. _His eyes are really green._

She wanted to kick herself as soon as the thought crossed her mind. The little details she'd always wondered about him didn't _matter_ , because he was a terrible person, and Isadora was going to get away from him as soon as she could and make sure he was arrested, because that's what murderers deserved.

He only held on to her chin for a moment before letting go and stepping back with a grimace. "Definitely concussed."

"I'm pretty sure we've got some Tylenol," Sam said as he set the to-go boxes Isadora hadn't noticed him carrying earlier on the small, rickety table against the opposite wall.

"No thanks," Isadora said. If she wasn't going to take a drink from them, she definitely wasn't going accept pills, no matter how much her head ached.

Dean rolled his eyes before heading over to the table and grabbing one of the boxes. "We already told you that we're not going to hurt you. It's just Tylenol."

Isadora just rattled the handcuff in response.

"What if we buy some Tylenol?" Sam asked. "Will you take it then?"

 _Why is he so set on giving me medicine?_ He actually seemed genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. It had to be an act, and Isadora wouldn't let herself fall for it.

Her head really did hurt though, and she wished she could take something for it. _Wish I had my purse. I've got Tylenol in there._

Actually, there was a decent chance they had her purse somewhere. Leaving it out by the restaurant would have looked too suspicious, right? "Do you have my purse?"

Dean paused in the act of raising the burger he'd gotten for dinner to his mouth. "What?"

"Did you bring my purse, or did you leave it?" Isadora asked. "I've got Tylenol in there. I'd take that."

"It's in the trunk," he said. He dropped the burger back in its box with a sigh and stood.

An awkward silence fell when Dean left the room. Isadora shifted on her feet. She wanted to sit, but cringed at the thought of sitting on the bed. Who knew when the bedding had last been washed? Isadora didn't trust the staff of this particular motel to handle the cleaning properly. She'd have to give in and sit eventually, but Isadora wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

Sam busied himself eating his meal, and it occurred to Isadora rather belatedly that kidnapping her must have interrupted their dinner, and their meals were probably cold now. She allowed herself a sort of petty satisfaction that she had at least managed to inconvenience them.

Dean returned, her blue purse in hand. "What do you keep in here?" he complained. "This thing must weigh fifteen pounds."

"I like to be prepared," Isadora said stiffly.

Dean set her purse on the table and opened it. "Hey!" Isadora said, taking a step in his direction before being pulled up short courtesy of the handcuff. "You can't just go through my purse!"

Dean cut his eyes in her direction. "You think I'm just going to hand you a bag of stuff? For all I know you could have weapons in here."

Isadora opened her mouth to protest that she didn't carry weapons right as Dean pulled her can of mace out of her bag. Her mouth snapped shut. It wasn't like she'd have tried to use it on them. At least, not while she was still cuffed to the bed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Dean said. He set the mace aside and kept digging through the purse until he located the bottle of Tylenol. He also found the mini bottle of water that she carried, which made Sam raise an eyebrow.

"You carry bottles of water?"

"It comes in handy," she grumbled. Like now for instance.

Dean carried the two items over to her before returning to his seat. Isadora gingerly settled on the edge of the bed, trying hard not to think of the germs, so she could more easily manage getting the medicine. She closed her eyes after swallowing the pills and massaged her temples, hoping that the medicine would kick in quickly.

Sam and Dean seemed content to ignore her at this point, which was okay by her. They spoke to each other as they ate, their voices low, though the size of the room meant she could still easily hear what they were saying. Not that Isadora particularly cared what they were talking about, so long as they weren't discussing how they were going to murder her. She couldn't help but pay attention to what they were saying though once a couple of their words filtered through.

"So if the deaths happened here, here, and here," Sam was saying while gesturing to something on his laptop screen, "then that means that the nest is probably somewhere in this area."

"Still a big area to search," Dean said. "We've got to narrow it down some more, or we could be searching for days."

 _What are they going on about?_

Dean had said something about working a case earlier. There was no way the two of them were cops though, or any kind of legitimate law enforcement. So what were they, some kind of private investigators or something?

"I'll talk to the victims' families tomorrow, so hopefully we'll be able to narrow things down a bit," Sam said.

 _Are they talking about those weird deaths?_

Isadora wasn't from the area; she was just visiting her friend, Julie, so Isadora didn't know much about the local news. But the topic of the three weird deaths had come up at dinner. Supposedly they were the result of animal attacks, though Julie had expressed doubt. She worked at a veterinary office, and said the injuries didn't sound like any animal attack she'd ever heard of. Isadora had stopped her at that point, because details of horrific deaths wasn't exactly something that she wanted to discuss over dinner.

 _They're investigating those deaths? Why?_

Isadora peeked in their direction. Dean was staring at Sam, his eyes narrowed. " _You'll_ talk to the families?"

"Yeah, I will," Sam said. He gestured in Isadora's direction. "You said she called the cops. That means you're on lockdown until we leave town."

Dean groaned. "Come on, Sammy!"

Sam held up a hand. "Nope. You don't get to complain. If you'd let me get the food to-go like I wanted to in the first place, we wouldn't be in this mess. I will talk to the families tomorrow. You will stay here."

Isadora closed her eyes again, fighting back the sounds of distress that she wanted to make. She was going to be stuck here, alone, with Dean Winchester. A known _serial killer_.

 _I think…I think I'm going to die._


	2. Chapter 2

_Don't freak out. Do. Not. Freak out._

Isadora couldn't afford to panic. Not right now, in this situation. She just had to breathe, keep quiet, and hope they kept ignoring her.

"Sammy," Dean started, but Sam cut him off.

"No."

Dean glared, and for a moment Isadora thought he was going to keep arguing. She hoped he would, and that he'd win. The last thing Isadora wanted was to be left alone with him. But Sam kept talking. "Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Rose. Seems fair to make that your job."

Dean settled back in his seat, a sour look on his face, but he didn't argue. Isadora's heart sank somewhere around her stomach. It seemed that she was going to be stuck with him after all.

Her headache felt like it was getting worse despite the medicine she'd taken, and details of the articles that Isadora had read about Dean crawled through her brain. Her stomach churned, and Isadora leaned over. "I'm going to be sick."

She heard them scrambling, and one of them managed to shove a plastic trash can under her before she heaved. The other one - Isadora couldn't tell which one and in that moment didn't particularly care - held her hair back from her face until she was done. When her stomach was finally empty Isadora blinked and looked to see Sam crouched beside her, Dean leaning over him to hold her hair back. When they saw she was done, Dean let go of her hair and took a step back. Sam gently tugged the trash can from Isadora before shoving it at Dean.

Dean grimaced, but took the trash can and headed outside to deal with it. Sam reached over to pick up her water bottle from the nightstand she had set it on earlier and handed it to her. Isadora accepted it from him, though she couldn't help but wish for a toothbrush. "Rose," he said as she sipped her water, "I know my word probably doesn't mean much of anything to you right now, but I promise you're going to be okay."

She looked over at him, caught off guard by how gently he spoke. The expression on Sam's face as he crouched next to her seemed genuine. _If I didn't know any better, I'd think he meant it._

Did he?

"I'd be better if you'd let me go," Isadora dared to say.

Sam winced and stood, taking a step back from her, and Isadora knew what his response would be before he spoke. "I'm sorry. Really. But we just can't risk it right now. We shouldn't be here more than a couple days, and then you can go."

Frustration bubbled up in her chest. "What are you guys doing here that you can't leave now? He interrupted me in the middle of a call with 911. People will be looking for me! Why would you stay?"

He hesitated, and the door swung open as Dean returned, sans trash can. He glanced between the two of them. "Did I miss something?"

Isadora didn't answer. She was already regretting the flood of questions. Pointing out how keeping her around could put them at risk was probably a bad idea. Unfortunately Sam didn't seem to share her concerns.

"Rose was asking why we can't just leave town."

Dean tipped his head and eyed her. Isadora did her best not to squirm under his gaze. He sighed and looked at Sam. "Guess we might as well tell her."

Sam frowned. "Dean –"

"What, you think we can keep it a secret from her when we're staying in the same room? Besides, she already thinks we're murderers. We can't make it weirder."

Sam threw up his hands and walked back to his chair. "Bet we can," he muttered. Isadora wasn't sure if she was supposed to have heard him or not.

Dean snagged the empty chair, moving it a bit closer to her, though not close enough to be within arm's reach which was a relief. He straddled the seat, leaning his arms on the chair back. "Here's the thing. Monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, wendigo. They're all real, and generally not nice. Sam and I are hunters. We track down monsters that are killing people, and we stop them."

Isadora stared at him. Of everything he could possibly have said, that was not what she had expected. She looked between him and Sam. "He's telling the truth," Sam said. "That's why we're here. Those weird deaths that just happened? The ones they're saying were animal attacks? We're pretty sure vampires are responsible."

"And that," Dean said, "is why we can't just leave. If we don't deal with the vampires, more people are going to die."

Isadora could hear the conviction in his voice as he spoke. _They actually believe what they're saying. These guys...they're insane._

Okay, so there probably wasn't any such thing as a sane serial killer, but still. They were even further off the deep end than she had realized.

"So, what, everyone you killed at that bank was some kind of monster?" She couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice.

Dean waved a hand. "The bank thing was not our fault. And we didn't kill them."

"You killed the shifter," Sam said.

"Well, yeah, I killed the shifter," Dean said. "But it was the shifter that killed everyone else."

"Shifter?" Isadora asked.

"Shape shifter," Sam clarified. "They can make themselves look like anyone. The shifter at the bank was killing people and shifting to look like them in an attempt to escape."

 _How do I even respond to that?_

The delusional belief in monsters must be what Dean used to justify his murders. From the way they spoke, Sam clearly helped him, though Isadora hadn't seen anything on the news about him. On the plus side, it probably meant they were telling the truth when they said they didn't plan to hurt her. They considered her human. The downside was that they had just basically told her they were planning to kill people, as soon as they figured out who the "vampires" were.

Dean sighed. "And you clearly don't believe us."

"You expected me to believe that?" Isadora asked.

"Not really." Dean shrugged. "It's the truth though. And it's why we can't let you go yet."

Isadora rubbed at her temple with her non-cuffed hand. _How did my life come to this?_

She was being held captive by her soulmate who didn't know he was her soulmate and who was also a deranged serial killer but thought he was killing monsters. Oh, and he was planning to kill more people before he left town. She couldn't forget that part. It was enough to make her want to scream, even if the action would be useless.

"Hey," Dean said, and Isadora reluctantly focused on him. He hesitated for a moment then said, "Look if you promise not to do anything stupid I'll take the handcuffs off so you can get to the bathroom if you need to. We've only got so many trash cans in here."

The offer was so outside of what she had expected, it took Isadora a moment even process it. _Why would he - oh. He doesn't think I'm a threat._

She was concussed, they'd just seen her get sick, and even if those things hadn't been a factor, she was a foot shorter than them. They could probably tell she was scared too, despite her attempts at a brave face. Isadora imagined that they probably saw her as weak, scared, and helpless.

A wave of calm washed over her.

"Okay," she said, letting a waver enter her voice. She held still when Dean stood and moved towards her.

Let them think that she was weak, or that she was too scared to try anything. Isadora could afford to wait a little while; at least until the pounding in her head went away. Eventually they'd drop their guard, and she'd get away from them. She could get to a phone, call the cops, and make sure Sam and Dean were stopped before they killed anyone else.

Dean removed the cuffs and then moved away from her. Isadora rubbed at her wrist, and shifted in her seat, curling her legs under her instead of sitting on the edge of the bed. She saw Dean's shoulders relax marginally at the sign that she wasn't about to try and run the moment the cuffs were removed.

 _Good. I can do this. I can play this part for a little while._

"We can turn the lights off," Sam offered. "It'll probably help your headache."

Isadora nodded, and Dean flipped of the lights. She forced herself to lean back against the headboard and close her eyes. With it quiet and dark, weariness began tugging at her. She wasn't sure if it was safe to sleep yet or not what with her concussion, and truthfully it didn't feel right to sleep in front of her kidnappers.

 _Don't think of it as resting. Think of it as tricking them._

She slumped down a little more against the pillows, and a part of her couldn't help wishing that she dared get more comfortable. Being bundled up in ankle boots, jeans, and a jacket wasn't exactly ideal sleepwear. There had to be a limit though. No way was Isadora going to make herself that vulnerable.

Sam and Dean stayed quiet, the only background noise the occasional click of the keys on Sam's laptop and the hum as the room's heater kicked on. Isadora shifted again, slipping down far enough that a pillow was properly settled under her head.

 _I'll just nap for a bit. Once my head stops hurting I'll be able to figure out how I'm getting away from them._

* * *

"She's asleep," Dean said. She didn't look comfortable, curled up in a tight ball, still wearing her shoes and jacket. Dean wasn't about to do anything about her comfort though. It didn't take a genius to figure out the gesture wouldn't be appreciated.

Sam glanced up over the top of his laptop screen, assessing Rose. Apparently satisfied that she was in fact asleep, he leaned back in the chair and looked at Dean. "So what are we going to do?"

"About?" Dean asked.

Sam shot him a look and waved a hand. "About all this. She was right, you know. The longer we're here, the riskier things get for us."

"Then we make sure we finish the job quickly," Dean said. Sam had that look on his face that said he was about to start arguing. "What else are we supposed to do, Sammy? Ditch town while there's still vamps killing people?"

Sam winced, clearly disliking the thought as much as Dean. "We could call Ellen," he suggested. "I'm sure she could get another hunter to take the case."

"Yeah and how many more people will have to die before other hunters get here?" Dean snapped.

Rose shifted, and they both froze. She didn't wake though, and Dean relaxed. He made sure to keep his voice quieter when he spoke. "Look, I don't like this either. I'm not exactly eager to get arrested." Given the crimes they believed he had committed, Dean would probably be lucky to just be sentenced to life in prison. More likely, he'd be facing a death sentence. He leaned his elbows on the rickety table and ran a hand through his hair. "We're the ones that are here, Sammy. We've got to deal with it."

Sam grimaced, but Dean could tell by the slump of his shoulders that he was giving in. "I guess you're right."

Dean patted his arm. "Cheer up. It could be worse."

Sam's expression went flat. "How exactly could things be worse?"

Dean considered. "I don't know. I'm just assuming they could be."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to whatever he was doing on his laptop. Dean drummed his fingers on the table. Boredom nipped at him. He couldn't turn on the TV without risking waking Rose up, he knew from experience that Sam wasn't going to share the laptop, and he couldn't leave the motel. _This sucks._

He looked over at Rose. This would all be so much simpler if she hadn't recognized him. As he stared at her, a thought occurred to him, and he turned to Sam. "Dibs on the free bed."

Sam paused. He slowly closed his laptop and looked over at Dean. "I am not sleeping on the floor."

Dean shrugged. "You should have picked a motel that came with couches."

"Or maybe you shouldn't have kidnapped someone."

"We have already discussed how that was not my fault."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "We did. And we decided that it was, in fact, your fault."

Dean opened his mouth to argue with that assertion, but realized he couldn't. "Rock, paper, scissors for it?"

"I am not sleeping on the floor."

"Oh, come on –"

"Shh!"

Dean cringed as Rose shifted again, making a small noise as she did. She settled down without waking. _Guess she's a deep sleeper._ Still, he tried to keep his voice at a whisper when he spoke. "Okay, new plan. We share the bed."

"That is a terrible idea," Sam said.

"I know," Dean said. "You kick. But I am not sleeping on the floor at this place."

"I do not-"

Dean hit his arm. "Hush!"

Sam put his head in his hands. "I hate you so much right now."

Dean was watching Rose, making sure she wasn't waking up. "Bet someone hates me more."

* * *

It was still dark when Isadora woke up, curled on her side facing the wall. She lay without moving, listening for any indication that Sam and Dean were up and about, but she didn't hear anything. Carefully she shifted onto her back, wincing as stiff muscles pulled. _At least my head doesn't hurt anymore._

She didn't hear a reaction to her movement. Isadora looked around, and spotted the guys sleeping back to back on the other bed. She held still, trying to judge how deeply asleep they were. Dean was sleeping on his side, facing her direction, and on top of the covers. Unlike Isadora, he'd taken off his shoes and jacket, but he was still dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Isadora had an uneasy feeling that he was still mostly dressed in case he needed to move quickly. It was hard to tell anything about Sam, since it was dark and he was on the other side of Dean, but Isadora could tell that he was at least sleeping under the blanket.

The digital clock on the nightstand between the beds declared it to be early morning hours, but Isadora didn't feel the least bit sleepy. Adrenalin hit her system as she realized that this could be her moment.

 _I might only get one shot at this. Don't mess it up._

Isadora lay where she was, watching them. Neither of them moved. She almost smiled with relief. They were both out and she was untied; this might be the best change she'd get.

She sat up slowly, praying the bed wouldn't creak under her. Isadora kept her eyes on Sam and Dean, but they didn't react to her movement. Carefully, Isadora turned and lowered her feet to the threadbare carpet.

 _They're still sleeping. I can do this._

Isadora stood, wincing as the bed chose that moment to squeak. She paused and watched them. Nothing.

She let out a breath. _It's okay, Isadora. You've got this._

Isadora scanned the path between where she was and the door for anything that might trip her up, and was relieved to see that it was clear. She spotted her purse on the table, and paused in a moment of indecision. _Is it worth it?_

She wasn't sure where or how far they'd taken her, given she'd been unconscious for part of the drive, and she wasn't really familiar with this town anyway. Having her wallet at least might be helpful in getting away from them. _Can't risk the time or noise to dig through my purse though._ Isadora glanced back at the bed to reassure herself that they were still sleeping. She carefully crept towards the table, reaching out for her bag.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Isadora jumped and let out a shriek at the gruff question before she slapped a hand over her mouth. She whirled around and her brain barely had time to register Dean sitting up and Sam jerking awake before she bolted for the door.

Her hand landed on the handle just as an arm curled around her, pinning her arms to her sides. A hand covered her mouth before she could scream again. Isadora tried to jerk away from whichever one of them had managed to grab her, but without success. Desperate, she brought her heel down on his foot. A curse came from above her and she recognized Dean's voice. His grip loosened, and she twisted out of his hold, reaching again for the door handle. Dean grabbed her arm and yanked her around. Before Isadora had time to process what was happening, she found herself over his shoulder.

"Get the cuffs, Sam," Dean snapped.

He dropped Isadora on the bed, and Sam grabbed her left arm before she could try and scramble away. There was a definitive clink as he snapped the cuffs on, and Isadora felt the hope drain out of her.

Dean limped over to the other bed and sat down with another curse. Sam flipped a lamp on before addressing him. "Your foot broken?"

"Don't think so," Dean replied. "Gonna bruise though." He glared at Isadora, and she shrank back from them as far as the handcuffs would let her. "Shoes off. Now."

"What?" she asked blankly.

"You don't get to have weapons," Dean said, "and apparently your shoes fall in that category. You can hand them over, or I can take them from you. Your choice."

Isadora glanced over at Sam, who'd backed up out of reach after turning the light on. She could see from the expression on his face that there would be no help forthcoming from that end. Her stomach twisted, but she reluctantly unzipped her ankle boots and tugged them off. For one wild moment, Isadora contemplated throwing them at Dean, but one look at his face wiped that idea from her mind. She just set them at the edge of the bed instead, and Sam leaned over and picked them up. He carried them to the opposite side of the other bed and tossed them in a corner.

"If you're thinking about doing anything else stupid tonight," Dean said, "just don't."

He flipped the lamp off, and the two of them got situated again. Isadora sat where she was. She blinked her eyes, tried to keep her breathing even. That had been her chance, and she'd blown it.


	3. Chapter 3

It took forever for Isadora to fall back asleep after her failed escape attempt, and when she did it was a restless sleep. As a result she woke up immediately when Sam got up and started moving around. She opened her eyes in time to see Sam disappear in the bathroom. A moment later she heard the shower start to run.

Her arm ached from the awkward angle that she'd had it at. Isadora pushed up into a sitting position and rubbed at her shoulder. Dean was still sprawled out on the other bed, one arm tossed over his eyes. She couldn't tell if he was actually asleep, or if he just didn't want to get up yet. Given how easily he'd woken up the night before, she was leaning towards the second option.

 _Well, I'm not starting a conversation with him._

Isadora ran a hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught in the tangles. _I feel like a mess._ Not too much she could do about that. She was doubtful as to whether they'd be willing to let her out of their sight long enough for her to shower, or if she'd be comfortable enough to take the opportunity to shower if they did let her. Even if she did shower, she didn't have clean clothes to change into anyway.

 _I'd kill for a toothbrush though._

The shower cut off, and a few minutes later Sam came out of the bathroom with damp hair, dressed in a basic t-shirt and jeans. He paused when he saw her sitting up. "Um, good morning."

"Good morning," Isadora answered on reflex. Internally she cringed. _I can't believe I just wished one of my captors a good morning._ She blamed her mother for drilling manners into her as a kid.

"You want to get in there before I get Dean up?" Sam asked.

"Yes, please," she said. He crossed to the chair where Dean had apparently left his jacket the night before and dug the key out of the jacket pocket. Isadora stood up so it would feel less like he was hovering over her when he came back to unlock the cuffs. She glanced down at his hands as he reached out for her wrist and stiffened involuntarily as she noticed something she'd missed the day before.

 _His soul mark is red._

She looked away hastily, wishing she hadn't noticed. Isadora had always been uncomfortable with that part of soul marks. It just felt too personal to learn at a glance that someone's soulmate had died.

As soon as her hand was free, Isadora made for the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She relaxed a little once she had a locked door between her and them, though she knew it was probably a false sense of security. Sam and Dean were professional criminals after all. They'd held up a bank. One cheap door with a simple lock probably wouldn't do more than slow them down for a moment. Even so, it was a relief to have some kind of barrier between them.

As Isadora washed her hands, she took a moment to study herself in the mirror. She looked as much of a mess as she felt. Her long hair was tangled, her makeup was smeared, giving her a bad case of raccoon eyes, and her clothes looked, well, like she'd slept in them. _Okay, maybe I would shower if they'd let me._

She let her gaze skim over the items on the sink as she dried her hands. It held various toiletries, but Isadora's attention was caught by a bottle of mouthwash. It wasn't as good as a toothbrush obviously, but it would be better than nothing.

 _Am I really that desperate though? To use someone else's mouthwash?_

Isadora bit her lip. Yes. Yes she was.

She left the bathroom and saw Dean sitting on the edge of his bed, Sam standing in front of him. They both glanced her way, the air filled with the awkward sort of quiet that happens when people suddenly stop talking. Isadora had an uneasy feeling that the reason they'd stopped talking was because she had been the topic of conversation.

"Bathroom is open," she said, mostly to fill the silence. She moved and sat at the end of the bed she'd been given, because what else was she going to do?

Dean stood and collected some items from a duffle bag near the wall before heading into the bathroom. Once the door was closed, Sam turned towards her. "I'm going to pick up some breakfast. Do you have any allergies or requests?"

Isadora blinked. She couldn't get used to that. They were holding her against her will, but then they went and did things like this, as if they were really trying to minimize the unpleasantness of the situation. "No allergies," she said. "I'd like some peppermint tea though, if you can get it."

Sam nodded. "I'll see what I can do." He paused for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to cuff you again. Dean will let you go though, once he's out of the shower."

She wasn't really surprised by this news. _I bet this is what they were talking about before._ Isadora didn't like it, but there wasn't much point in resisting. Not when Sam was twice her size and Dean was close by. She just moved up near the headboard so Sam could snap the cuff on her wrist.

"Hey, quick favor before you leave?" Isadora asked.

"Ah, sure, if I can," Sam said.

"Can you get me my hairbrush and makeup bag out of my purse?" she asked. If she was going to be stuck here, she wanted to at least feel like she was doing something.

"Yeah, sure." Her purse was still sitting on the table. Sam opened it and frowned.

"It's the green one," Isadora said, guessing what his hesitation was about.

"Why do you have so much stuff in here?" he asked, as he got her makeup bag and hairbrush.

"Like I said last night," Isadora replied, accepting the items from him. "I like to be prepared. You have to admit, it's been kind of helpful."

The corner of his mouth twitched up. "I guess it has. I'll be back soon." With that, he shrugged on a jacket and headed out.

Isadora sat down and unzipped her makeup bag. As she dug through for her makeup remover and moisturizer, her fingers brushed against the cool metal of her nail file. She froze. A memory sparked in her mind, of her father joking about how she could use it to stab someone if she needed to.

Her gaze darted to the bathroom door. She could still hear the shower running. Before she could rethink her actions, Isadora tucked the nail file into her jacket pocket. She wasn't sure if she'd actually use it. Just the thought of trying to stab either of them with it made her stomach feel queasy.

 _It'll have to be a last resort sort of thing._

A nail file wasn't exactly a great weapon, even a metal one that ended in a sharp point. She'd have to be close to them and stab in just the right spot to do any real damage. There was no doubt in Isadora's mind that if she tried to stab either of them and then didn't escape, all overtures of friendliness would vanish. They'd start treating her like the captive she actually was, if they didn't decide that keeping her around was too much of a hassle and just kill her.

The nail file was definitely a last resort then. Hopefully she'd never need it. _Just in case…_

Isadora dug out her compact and busied herself wiping off her makeup. She heard the shower cut off. _Just stay calm, Isadora. It's not like he'll be able to tell I've got a sort of weapon now just by looking at me._ _Pretend he's a client or something and put on your customer service face._

She paused in her actions. Actually, pretending Dean was a client was probably a terrible idea. Isadora was a personal shopper, and her last client had been an older, grandmother type woman who had wanted help buying decorations for her guest room. Now Isadora had this image in her mind of Dean hemming and hawing over draperies. Her mouth quirked up despite her struggles against it. _Stop,_ _laughing is way more suspicious in this situation than looking nervous!_

Isadora managed to get her expression under control just in time. The bathroom door opened, and Dean's gaze immediately swung her way. His eyes narrowed when he saw the items scattered around her, and Isadora hastened to say, "It's just my makeup bag. Sam got it for me before he left."

"That's fine, I guess," Dean said.

A heartbeat passed and Isadora added, "He also said something about you taking the handcuffs off?"

A frown flickered over his face. "You going to try and run again if I do?"

Isadora sighed. "That didn't really work for me last night when you were sleeping. I'm not going to try anything while you're awake."

He seemed to accept that answer. Or maybe he just decided that there was no real risk of Isadora getting away while he was on guard. Either way, Dean got the key for the cuffs and came over to let her go. Isadora glanced down at his wrists as he did. She knew it probably wasn't a good idea, but she couldn't help herself, and there it was. Her name on his wrist, in the stylized signature she'd developed for work, with its loops and whirls and even the little heart dotting the 'i' in Lewis.

It almost felt like a kick to the stomach, seeing her name. Finding Dean should have been exciting. It should have been the start of something wonderful. The best moment of her life.

But no, her soulmate had to be a murderer.

Dean didn't hover. Once her hand was free, he slipped the key back in his pocket and went to the table. Sitting down, he opened the laptop to do whatever it was he was doing. Isadora wasn't planning to ask. She focused on working the brush through the tangles in her hair, and once it was smooth she twisted it into a side braid.

 _I wish Sam was back already._

The quiet was getting to her. Isadora didn't do well with silence. Whenever she was alone in her apartment, she always had something playing in the background, whether it was music or Netflix or whatever. She certainly didn't sit in silence when other people were around. Now that she didn't have anything to keep her busy, not talking just felt awkward.

 _He kidnapped me, he's a murderer, do_ not _start a conversation with him._

"How did you and Sam meet?"

 _Why am I like this?_

Dean looked at her over the laptop. "What?"

It was too late to pretend she hadn't spoken to him. "You and Sam," she repeated. "How'd you meet?"

His brows drew together and he cocked his head to the side. "Why do you care?"

Isadora shrugged and crossed her arms to keep from fidgeting. "I don't have anything else to do."

Dean stared at her. "I was at the hospital when he was born."

 _What?_

Her bafflement must have shown on her face, because his mouth twitched as though he was holding back a smile. "We're brothers," he clarified.

"Oh," Isadora said. She felt a little silly for not realizing it sooner. It wasn't like Sam had mentioned his last name when introducing himself though.

Before she could decide if she was going to attempt to continue the conversation, the door handle rattled, then the door opened and Sam came in the room, a drink tray and paper bag in hand. "I got breakfast burritos," he said as he carried the items to the table.

"Sweet," Dean said, closing the laptop.

Sam tugged one of the cups out of the tray and held it out towards Isadora. "You're in luck; they had peppermint tea."

Isadora walked over and took the cup, automatically saying, "Thanks." The absurdity of the situation hit her even as she accepted the tea and tinfoil wrapped burrito. She was about to have breakfast with her kidnappers. _Well, I don't have to sit with them at least._ She retreated back to the bed, taking a sip of the tea before setting the cup on the nightstand. _No weird aftertaste. Hopefully that means it isn't drugged or anything._

She was mostly confident that they weren't going to drug her at this point. If they were looking for an excuse to hurt her, then her escape attempt the night before had certainly given them one and they hadn't taken advantage of it. Isadora was well aware that that moment could have gone much worse than having her shoes taken and getting handcuffed again. Not that it really changed anything. She was still their captive, and they were planning to hurt _someone_ , even if that someone wasn't actually Isadora. Though if she pushed them enough, Isadora didn't doubt their plans could change.

 _Don't let your guard down just because they haven't been as bad as they could be._

"Not eating?" Dean asked when Sam moved away from the table towards the closet by the bathroom.

"I ate on the way back," Sam replied. "Thought I'd change and get going so we can wrap this up quick."

 _Right. He's supposed to talk to the victims' families today. How's he going to convince them to talk to him anyway?_

Sam pulled a black suit out of the closet and went in the bathroom to change. Isadora frowned and glanced at Dean. "So, what, you guys pretend to be detectives or something so people will talk to you?"

Dean had just taken a large bite of his burrito as Isadora asked her question. The awkwardly hasty chewing would have been funny, if Isadora was inclined to find anything about the brothers amusing. He washed the bite down with a swig of coffee. "Something like that. You'd be surprised what people will tell you when you wear a suit and act confident."

Isadora took a bite of her food, thinking over his answer. _They really put some effort into deciding who their 'monsters' are._ It was uncomfortable to think of it that way, given their plans were ultimately to find someone to, well, kill. But they weren't _random_ about who they were targeting. They'd been drawn to the area because of weird deaths in the first place. They'd looked at the locations the victims had been killed at to try and narrow down where the 'vampires' were coming from, they were interviewing friends and families of the victims to find out more. All in all, they were putting in a lot of effort to find out who had actually killed these people.

… _They really believe they're saving people._

When Isadora considered things from that perspective, their actions began to make more sense. They said they didn't want to hurt her because they really _didn't_ want to hurt her. They acted concerned about her comfort because they _were_. They were expending so much effort to find out who had killed those three people so other people could be _safe_.

Of course, there was no such thing as monsters – at least not any that weren't human. _Julie didn't think those attacks were done by animals._

Assuming Julie was right about the attacks - and that was still a big assumption - then Sam and Dean were actually hunting another serial killer, albeit one that they thought was a vampire. And Dean had claimed there was a monster at that bank, and it was the monster that had killed people there. Isadora supposed that it was possible – unlikely, but possible – that there really had been another killer at the bank, and that Sam and Dean were only responsible for that death.

 _In trying to track down and kill monsters, are they actually tracking down and killing other criminals?_

She sipped her tea and resisted the urge to scrutinize Dean. The idea didn't make what they were doing any better, but weirdly, it did sort of reassure Isadora. If their delusion was about killing monsters and saving people, then the chances of them deciding to kill her were probably lower than what she'd first assumed. They were still dangerous, obviously, and Isadora wasn't going to let her guard down. But maybe she didn't need to feel like she was walking on eggshells either.

Sam came out of the bathroom, and Isadora had to admit to herself that he did look more professional in the suit. His shaggy hair kind of marred the look he was going for though. Not that Isadora was about to give them any advice.

"I'll keep you updated on what I find out," Sam said.

"You know," Dean started, but Sam held up a hand to silence him.

"If that sentence is about to have any kind of suggestion of you coming," Sam said, "you probably shouldn't finish it."

Dean glared at him. "I was just going to suggest that you bring back pie with lunch."

"Sure," Sam said, looking unconvinced. He headed for the door, but paused a moment to glance back at Isadora, then at Dean. "Be nice."

Dean balled up the tinfoil his breakfast burrito had been wrapped in and threw it at him. "Just get going already!"

Sam rolled his eyes, apparently unimpressed by Dean's dramatics, but he left. Dean mumbled something that Isadora couldn't make out, but she would be willing to bet that it wasn't very complimentary of Sam.

 _Alone again._

Isadora gathered her trash and stood, gaining Dean's attention. "What are you doing?"

She held up her cup and balled up tinfoil. "Just throwing my trash away."

Dean nodded, which Isadora took as permission. The only trashcan left was in the bathroom, and Isadora wondered vaguely where Dean had dumped the other trashcan last night. Once she'd thrown her trash away, Isadora was again left with nothing to do, so she returned to her seat on the bed. Dean was still nursing his coffee. He drummed his fingers on the table as he glanced at the door. It wasn't hard to guess that he'd rather be with Sam than stuck in the hotel room guarding her.

 _Yeah, well, I'd prefer that too, buddy._

"What makes you so sure it's vampires?"

 _I have got to learn how not to talk to people._

Dean looked over at her, his fingers going still as he studied her. "What's it matter? You don't believe in vampires."

Isadora shrugged. "I know. That's why I'm asking."

He stared a moment more. Isadora wasn't sure what he was looking for, but she made herself keep his gaze. Apparently coming to a decision, Dean set his cup aside and leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. "How much do you know about the deaths?"

Isadora wasn't about to admit that she was from out of town, so she scrambled to recall what had been said about them at dinner. "Um, it was two girls and a guy, and they were killed about a week apart from each other. The media is saying they were killed by an animal, because they all had bite marks on them, but no one's said what kind of animal."

"They won't say what kind of animal, because they can't figure it out," Dean said. He opened the laptop. "Come here."

Isadora froze. When she'd started the conversation, she hadn't expected it to involve getting closer to Dean. Just because she was pretty sure he didn't plan to hurt her didn't mean she wanted to go near him. _Customer service face._ She tugged at the sleeve of her jacket, making sure her wrist was covered before moving to the empty chair beside him. Isadora tried to shift the chair a little away from him as she sat down, hoping he wouldn't notice.

Dean pushed the laptop towards her. He'd pulled up news articles about the deaths. "Read them for yourself."

Isadora wasn't sure how reading the articles was supposed to convince her that vampires were real when they hadn't convinced the rest of reasonable society, but she did as he said. She'd have liked to have skimmed the articles, but she took her time, and Dean didn't say anything while she read.

A lot of it was pretty standard awful murder stuff. Each victim had been killed at night, one found in a park, the other in an alleyway behind a dumpster, and the third in a ditch by an infrequently traveled road. All three had had multiple injuries caused by bites, which was why authorities were saying an animal had killed them.

Some of the stuff though was kind of odd. Dean was right that they couldn't identify what kind of animal had killed these people, and then there was one article where the witness who'd found the second victim was interviewed. The witness described finding the man's body, and not realizing at first that he was dead because there wasn't any blood.

 _That can't be right._

Isadora wasn't an expert on animal attacks by any means, but her father was an ER doctor, and she'd heard him talk about stitching up a person who'd been attacked by an animal more than once. It was always messy. For there to be no blood at all at the site of an animal attack just didn't make sense.

Another thing niggled at Isadora, thanks to Julie and her work. If these were all animal attacks, _why_ had they happened? Animals didn't just attack people for no reason. The victims hadn't been eaten, so they weren't killed for food. If it was an animal defending its territory, then a lot more people should have been attacked, given how spread out the places the victims were found had been.

She sat back in the chair, biting her lip. _It doesn't add up._

"Well?" Dean asked. She glanced over at him. He was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. "You really think those were animal attacks?"

"No," she admitted, "but that doesn't mean it was vampires. It could be a human serial killer."

Dean snorted. "Not likely, with those wounds."

"Well, wouldn't a vampire bite be pretty distinctive?" Isadora asked. "The two puncture marks and all? That's not what the articles describe."

"Vampire bites are distinctive, I'll give you that," Dean said. "But they don't just have the two fangs. That's Hollywood. Real vampires have a second set of teeth. They stay hidden in their gums until the vampire goes to feed. The bites they leave are pretty much like that." He gestured towards the laptop.

"You talk like you've run into vampires before," Isadora said.

"Oh, we have," Dean replied. "More than I'd like."

Isadora rubbed her temple. _I can't believe we're even having this conversation._ Monsters weren't real, everyone knew that.

 _Everyone except my soulmate and his brother, apparently._

She should just let it go. What was she even doing right now? Trying to convince him that his delusions weren't real? Even if she could, it wouldn't matter because it wouldn't change the things he'd already done. She should just stop talking and wait for her chance to escape and call the cops.

Isadora's right hand clenched into a fist in her lap, and with her left she reached out and pushed the laptop back towards him. "Okay, prove it."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Prove it?"

"Yeah," Isadora said. "It was the articles about the deaths that got your attention, right? If you and Sam have actually hunted other vampires, there would be articles about similar deaths in other areas too. So, prove it."

Dean tipped his head to the side, and for a moment Isadora thought he would refuse. Then he shrugged. "Fine. Why not? Not like I have anything else to do."

He started typing, and Isadora felt a flicker of unease when he didn't even have to pause and think. _Monsters aren't real._

"Here it is," Dean said before pushing the laptop back to her. "Tell me if that one sounds familiar."

Isadora's uneasy feelings didn't go away, but she steeled herself and started to read.

* * *

 **AN:** To all my guest reviewers, thanks so much for your feedback! Your reviews absolutely make my day!


	4. Chapter 4

It was midmorning when Victor Henriksen and his partner, Roy Thompson, walked into the police station. The station was relatively quiet, which Victor hoped was a sign that they'd be able to get the info they needed quickly and then be on their way.

He strode up to the front desk and greeted the officer sitting there. "Good morning, I'm Agent Henriksen, and this is my partner, Agent Thompson."

Recognition sparked in the officer's eyes. "You two the ones here about the Winchester call?"

"We are," Victor said.

"If you'll wait a moment," the officer said, nodding towards the bench that lined the wall, "I'll get Detective Fields for you."

"Thank you," Victor said.

They stepped aside, but neither sat while they waited. Victor had to resist the urge to pace. If he was to have any chance of closing in on the Winchesters, they needed to move fast.

"You know," Roy said, "I think maybe you should stick to decaf for the rest of the day."

Victor shot him a look; caffeine and determination were the only things keeping Victor going. He'd had only brief snatches of sleep since he'd gotten the call last night about someone reporting a sighting of Dean Winchester. But before Victor could shoot off a snarky retort a tall, dark-skinned woman in a pantsuit approached them.

"Good morning," she said. "I'm Detective Fields."

"Agent Henriksen," Victor said, holding out a hand for her to shake. Detective Fields had a firm grip and even stare. "And this is my partner, Agent Thompson."

Roy nodded at her. "Pleasure to meet you, detective."

Detective Fields returned the nod crisply. "I'm sure. Let's go ahead and get to business. Follow me."

Victor felt a flash of relief at her brisk, straightforward manner. It meant they could get this work done quickly. He and Roy took the seats that Detective Fields motioned to when they arrived at her desk. She had a file out already and pushed it towards him. "We were able to figure out that the call came from one Isadora Lewis."

Victor flipped the folder open as Detective Fields spoke. He was greeted by a picture of Lewis; the woman was young and pretty, her smile wide as she stared into the camera. "She's from out of town," Detective Fields said. "Lewis was here visiting a friend. According to the friend, she and Lewis had gone out to eat last night, when Lewis suddenly decided she needed to make a call. She went outside and never came back."

"Did this witness see either of the Winchesters?" Victor asked, looking up from the papers in the folder.

Detective Fields shook her head. "No. However, the witness – Julie Davis – did recognize Dean Winchester's name."

"She's seen some of the news stories," Roy guessed.

"Not at all," Detective Fields said. "It would seem that Lewis is Dean Winchester's soulmate."

Victor's head shot up. "She's what?"

Detective Fields shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "That's what Davis said, and it wasn't hard to confirm. Lewis runs a fashion blog, which means lots of pictures. Her soul mark is easy to spot in some of them."

Victor slowly closed the folder, processing this new information. "Well clearly Lewis has seen the stories about Winchester since she called it in when she saw him. I'd guess he recognized her too, since he followed her outside the restaurant."

"He interrupts her call," Roy continued, "and then, what, kidnaps her?"

"That's our working theory," Detective Fields said. "It's safe to assume she wouldn't have gone with him willingly, given she was trying to call us to turn him in."

Roy sighed. "At least she's got a better chance of surviving than someone else would."

Victor grimaced. It was probably true enough; even the most hardened of criminals were usually reluctant to harm their soulmates. But that didn't mean Lewis wasn't still at risk.

Soulmates were a perfect match, always. A perfect match for someone like Dean Winchester, who'd committed some of the more sadistic murders that Victor had seen, well. Lewis wasn't a criminal yet, she'd clearly been trying to do the right thing by turning him in, but if she was his soulmate than more than likely she was corruptible. It was only a question of how long it would take Winchester to get under her skin.

"Any leads on where the Winchesters might have gone after they took Lewis?" Victor asked.

"None," Detective Fields said. "A handful of witnesses noticed the Winchesters, and their waitress reported that they suddenly changed their order from dining in to to-go, but no one noticed where they went or what kind of vehicle they were in."

That was a dead-end trail to try and follow then. _Maybe we need to come at this from a different angle._

"Anything unusual happen in town, lately?" Victor asked.

Detective Fields' brows furrowed together. "Nothing that would be relevant to this case."

"Humor me," Victor said.

"If you're looking for unusual, there have been three deaths over the past three weeks from animal attacks." Detective Fields shrugged. "No one can figure what kind of animal is doing it though."

"I'd like to see those files," Victor said.

Detective Fields eyed him. "You think the Winchesters could have something to do with these deaths?"

Details of Dean Winchester's previous victims flashed through Victor's mind: some he'd killed quickly, but most had been tortured before their deaths. One victim in particular rose in his memory. A woman at that bank they'd held up, whose arm had been skinned before he'd killed her.

"If their deaths are strange and horrifying, I'd bet money the Winchesters have something to do with it," Victor said.

* * *

Dean watched Rose's face as she read the new set of articles that he'd pulled up for her. She pursed her lips as she read, her brows crinkling enough for a line to form between them. He was surprised that she was interested in seeing proof of monsters existing. Given the news reports that she'd seen about him, it wouldn't exactly have been surprising if she'd written him and Sam off as crazy murderers. It had seemed like she was going to do exactly that the night before. He wasn't sure what exactly had changed.

Well, changed might be a bit strong of a word to use. She didn't believe they were telling the truth yet. But Dean was pretty sure she was wavering. He'd showed her a number of articles about vampire attacks - or animal attacks, if you wanted to go by what the articles actually said - and she'd admitted they seemed too strange for animal attacks. That was a big step by itself. Most people didn't want to examine things too closely. They settled on whatever answer seemed simplest, even if it was wrong. Dean would rather deal with the truth, even if the truth was awful.

Rose sat back in her seat slowly, her hand reaching up to toy with the end of her braid. "Well," Dean said, "what's the verdict?"

Her gaze flicked up towards him, and her face smoothed out. She had a decent poker face, when she thought about it. "It doesn't have to be vampires."

Dean crossed his arms, his mouth lifting in a smirk. This could be entertaining. "What, you're sticking with your human serial killer idea?"

She lifted her chin a little, her cool look almost but not quite slipping into a glare. "It could be!"

"Could be," Dean agreed. "But that," he gestured towards the computer, "would be pretty tricky for a human to pull off. And it's a pretty big coincidence that there are a bunch of different serial killers out there with the exact same method of killing their victims."

Rose grimaced, probably realizing how unlikely that scenario was. "It's not impossible," she defended. She let go of her braid, dropping her hand into her lap. "Look, it's just - if monsters are real, how come more people don't know about them?"

Dean shrugged. "Monsters don't want people to know about them. Makes it easier for them to get their victims." He hesitated a moment before adding, "And there are other people out there who know about monsters. Sam and I aren't the only hunters around." He figured it wouldn't hurt to tell her that much. Even if she ended up refusing to believe, there wasn't anything she could do about other hunters as long as she didn't know their names.

Rose's eyes went wide. "There are more of you?"

"Yep," Dean said. "Monster hunting is a whole thing."

She glanced away, shifting in her chair. "So, if there are a bunch of hunters out there, why don't you all just tell people that monsters are real? Expose them if secrecy is such a big advantage for them."

"Because people don't want to believe," Dean said. He gestured in her direction. "Look how hard you're scrambling to come up with any explanation that doesn't involve monsters being real."

She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, which Dean took to mean that he'd scored a point.

His phone rang and Sam's number flashed across. _Finally_. Dean answered quickly. "Hey, you find something?"

"Yeah, I got a lead on where the vamps might be finding their targets. Turns out, all three victims were at the same bar before they were killed. We can check it out tonight, see if we can spot them."

Good, a solid lead. Hopefully they'd be able to find and track the vampires tonight and take them out tomorrow when they'd be at their most vulnerable. Then they could let Rose go and hit the road.

"I'm on my way back," Sam said. "I'm going to pick up lunch. Ask Rose if there's something in particular she wants."

"Why does she get to pick lunch?" Dean asked.

"Because you kidnapped her, and getting her food she likes is literally the least we can do for her." Sam's tone was flat, and Dean could easily picture the expression he was making.

"Okay, fine." Dean lowered the phone and looked over at Rose. "What do you want for lunch?"

Her expression flickered for a second, too fast for him to get a good read on it. She tugged at her braid again. "Anything is fine. Just nothing greasy."

 _Great. Sam is definitely going to use that as an excuse to get us salads or something_.

Still, Dean relayed the message. "Okay," Sam said. I think I can handle that. I'll be there soon."

Dean hung up the phone. Relief flickered through him. This job should be done soon, and then they could let Rose go and pretend this never happened. Or try to anyway. Sam probably wouldn't let him live it down for a while.

"Sounds like you got a lead," Rose said. She was stiff, arms crossed over her chest.

"Yeah, we did," Dean said.

Her mouth pressed together and she looked away. She was stubbornly refusing to believe monsters were real, so what did she think of this? _Probably that we're about to go murder someone._ It wasn't exactly the first time that someone had thought Dean was a murderer. Still, he wasn't really thrilled by the misunderstanding.

"What if," she said abruptly, "what if you guys follow this lead and it turns out you're wrong?" She looked back up at him. "What if it turns out that I'm right, and the killer is human? What would you do then?" Rose leaned forward as she spoke, and Dean wondered at the vehemence in her voice.

"Well, it is vampires," Dean said. "But if by some weird twist of fate, it turned out they weren't…I guess we'd get the murderer to the cops somehow." He shrugged. "I told you, we hunt monsters, not people."

She held his gaze silently, and Dean couldn't stop himself from asking the question that he'd been wondering. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

Rose straightened in her chair, her face flushing. She waved her hands in a gesture of frustration, light glinting off the wide, metallic cuff on her right wrist. "Why does it – of course it matters! You're talking about killing someone! This is life and death, what exactly do you think would be more important?"

Dean stared down at her and Rose glared up at him, her hazel eyes sparking and face still flushed with emotion. "What?" she snapped.

"You're cute when you're mad," Dean said without thinking. He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. It was true, Rose was cute, but considering their current circumstances, commenting on her physical appearance was probably the quickest way to make her even more uncomfortable.

Sure enough, Rose stiffened, her eyes going wide. She sat back in her chair, arms curling around herself defensively. An awkward silence fell over them. "Yeah," Dean said and stood, "um, I think I'm going to get some fresh air. 'Fraid that means you've got to be cuffed again."

Rose nodded, her movement somewhat jerky before standing herself and heading back towards the bed. Dean followed slowly, the cuffs in one hand. He reached out for her right arm, but Rose quickly held up her left for him instead. Dean frowned a second over the action. Not that it really mattered which arm the cuffs went on, but it was a little strange that Rose would have a preference. Once she was secured to the bedpost, Dean left the motel room.

He didn't actually go anywhere. Sam had the car after all, and there wasn't really anywhere for Dean to go anyway. He just figured that he and Rose could both use some time not stuck in the same room with each other, so he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned back against the door to wait for Sam.

The motel and area around it were pretty much deserted, so Dean didn't really have anything to occupy him while he waited, and he found his thoughts drifting back to Rose. _What's up with the arm thing?_

From what he'd observed, she was right handed, so maybe it was a simple matter of not wanting her dominant hand bound. But she was also wearing a wide bracelet on her right arm, and that was weird in and of itself, now that he thought about it. People didn't usually do that, unless they were trying to hide their soul mark.

 _Why would she do that?_

It couldn't just be because she thought Sam and Dean were killers, and she didn't want them to know who her soulmate was to keep them safe or something. Rose had been wearing the bracelet when Dean had first kidnapped her, so for some reason she didn't want _anyone_ to know who her soulmate was.

Dean shook his head. It was strange, but since Rose obviously wasn't connected with monsters, it wasn't really any of his business either. _Not like I really want anyone looking into my soulmate either._

At the thought, Dean dropped his gaze to the name on his wrist, studying it for the millionth time. Isadora Lewis. The handwriting was obviously feminine, with curling loops and a heart over the 'i' in Lewis. For the millionth time, he wondered what she would be like, and if he was making a mistake by refusing to look for her.

He blinked, and shoved his hand back into his pocket. _Don't be stupid. You know it's a bad idea._

Dean had figured out early on that the life of a hunter wasn't the sort of life he'd want for his soulmate. It was too dangerous, and Dean refused to drag Isadora into a life where she could be hurt or killed. He didn't think he'd be able to stand it, if he found her and then something happened to her. He'd seen what Sam had had to deal with after Jess; Dean didn't want to face that.

He spotted the Impala coming up the road, and straightened up from where he was leaning against the door. Sam pulled into a parking place near him. "I thought you were supposed to stay in the motel room," Sam said as he got out of the car.

"Just wanted some fresh air," Dean said, deciding not to mention how he'd thoughtlessly made things more awkward with Rose. Sam had enough to mock him about for a while, Dean didn't need to just hand him more ammo. "That's a lot of bags for just lunch."

"I got Rose some stuff, since she's going to be spending the night," Sam said. He held out two paper bags for Dean to take. "That's our lunch."

They went into the motel room, and Rose's head immediately came up to look at them. "Hey, we've got lunch," Sam said. He walked over towards Rose and held out two plastic shopping bags. "I also picked up some stuff for you, since you're, uh, going to have to stay the night again."

Rose took the bags, setting them on the bed beside her. "Oh, um, thanks." The way she said it made it sound more like a question than an actual expression of gratitude.

Sam turned towards Dean and held out a hand. "Keys?"

Dean set the bags of food on the table so he could dig the key out of his pocket and tossed it to Sam. While Sam unlocked the cuffs from Rose, Dean unloaded the bags of food. Sam must have found a Greek inspired place, because he'd brought back gyros and fries for lunch, and bottles of soda. "No pie?" Dean asked.

"You'll survive," Same said dryly. Dean glared. That was hardly the point.

The meals were passed out, and Sam and Dean took the seats at the table, while Rose retreated back to her spot on the bed. The silence as they ate felt heavy and awkward, and Dean didn't like it. He reached over and picked up the remote to the TV and turned it on, just so they could have some background noise instead of dead silence. It was on some local news channel.

"And that's it for the weather," the anchorwoman said. "In other news, a visiting woman went missing last night." A picture of Rose flashed up on the screen. "Isadora Lewis was in town visiting friends when – "

The anchorwoman's voice faded away for Dean as he stared at the name under Rose's picture. _No. No, it can't be._ Dean slowly turned to look at Rose. She was staring at him, her eyes wide and face white as a sheet. She held her right arm pressed to her chest.

Dean shot out of the chair, and she scrambled to her feet. Dean reached her before she could do anything, grabbing hold of her forearm. He faintly registered Sam calling his name, but Dean ignored him. He yanked the bracelet from Rose's wrist, and there it was. His name in his handwriting on the inside of her wrist.

It was like the floor had fallen out from under him. He slowly looked up from her wrist, meeting her gaze. Her face was still pale, her muscles taunt. "Isadora," Dean whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Isadora's lips parted, like she was going to say something, but no words came out. She just stared up at him, saying nothing, and suddenly Dean couldn't stay in the room anymore. He dropped her arm like she'd burned him, turned on his heel and stormed outside.

He walked to the end of the car and stopped, bracing his hands on the Impala's trunk. His mind whirled. _She's Isadora. She's_ Isadora.

Dean had never planned to look for her, never expected to find her. He'd resigned himself over and over to the knowledge that he'd go his whole life and never know his soulmate. But that was her, right there in his motel room. That was _her._

 _What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

* * *

 **AN:** It happened! Dean knows! And Isadora only managed to keep her secret for a little less than 24 hours! I'll be honest, I kind of agonized over how this reveal would go. If I should do it now, or later, and how...? I hope it's satisfying!

PS: Thanks so much for your patience while waiting for an update! Life has been pretty hectic for the past couple months, and I'm glad to be back with my stories.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam stood frozen by the table, his eyes darting between the door Dean had just slammed behind him and Isadora, who was still standing by the bed, uncertain as to who he should deal with first. His decision was made as tears welled up in Isadora's eyes and she pressed a hand over her mouth. Sam moved slowly towards her. "Hey, are you…okay?"

She blinked the tears back and managed to must up the energy to glare at him. "Am I okay?" she repeated, dropping her hand from in front of her mouth. "Am I – in what universe to you think anyone in this situation could possibly be okay?" She shook her head and pointed at the door. "He's my soulmate and – and it isn't fair! It's not _fair!_ Because he's – you guys…"

Isadora trailed off, and Sam's heart sank at the reminder that she didn't believe in monsters. She thought they were murderers. She thought _Dean_ was a murderer. She closed her eyes, wiping roughly at her cheeks as a few tears spilled over. "It's not fair," she whispered.

 _No, it isn't._ Not for the reasons that Isadora thought though. No, Sam ached for Dean, because if there was anyone in the world that deserved something good in their life, it was his brother. Dean, who had in a lot of ways raised Sam, who had always taken the brunt of their father's darkest moods, who had dedicated himself so completely to protecting people from dangers they didn't even know existed, and who despite all he'd been through, and the claims he'd make to the contrary, still cared deeply about people.

Dean deserved a chance at happiness after everything that had happened to him, after everything he'd had to sacrifice. But instead, the universe did this; it sent him a soulmate who was convinced he was a murderer.

"I need to go check on Dean," Sam said quietly. He reached back to the table and snagged the handcuffs. Isadora's hazel eyes opened at the jangling sound of the metal.

"You're still going to cuff me?"

Sam shrugged a bit, stepping towards her. "Sorry. Can't risk you trying to contact someone with the laptop, or trying to get your hands on a weapon or something."

Her frown deepened, but she didn't try to resist as he cuffed her to the bedpost. Sam headed outside. Dean was leaning against the trunk of the car, arms crossed over his chest as he stared out into the distance.

"Dean," Sam said as he walked up to him.

"Don't," Dean snapped. He looked over at Sam. "Just don't. This doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't change anything?" Sam gestured back at the motel. "Dean, she's your soulmate."

"And? So what? She thinks I'm a murderer!" Dean pushed off the Impala, pacing away a few steps. "You know, I actually spent the morning talking to her about hunting, and monsters, and showing her the different articles that told us vampires were around. Guess what that did?" He turned sharply to face Sam, glaring. "Absolutely _nothing._ She still doesn't think monsters are real." A short almost laugh escaped him. "Except for me."

"We can prove monsters are real," Sam said.

Dean shook his head. "No. No way. The only way we'd convince her monsters are real is if she saw one, and I'm not doing that to her." He took a shaky breath. "And maybe it's better that she doesn't believe in monsters anyway."

Sam could hardly believe what he was hearing. "How exactly is that better?"

"Because I never planned to find her in the first place," Dean said. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I never wanted to drag her into the complete _mess_ of our lives. And now I don't have to worry about trying to keep her at arm's length, because she doesn't want anything to do with me anyway."

"Dean, that's ridiculous," Sam scoffed. "She's your soulmate."

"Yeah, well how'd hooking up with your soulmate work out for you?" Dean snapped. Sam stiffened, his hand clenching into a fist. Dean winced, looking away as the silence stretched out between them. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have – what happened to Jess wasn't your fault."

When Sam closed his eyes, he could still see her, pinned to their bedroom ceiling, terror and pain radiating from her face as fire consumed her. "Yes, it is," Sam said, the weight that settled in his chest with her death pressing in so it was hard to breathe. "It is my fault. Because I wanted to be _normal._ So, I never told her about what I knew. I never told her anything that could have kept her safe. Then she died, because I never told her anything. And that is absolutely my fault."

Dean grimaced. "What would you have me do, Sam? Drag Isadora away from her life? Turn her into a hunter? Get her mixed up in our mission to hunt down Azazel? Because none of that sounds like a good idea to me."

Sam sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don't know, Dean. She's your soulmate, and it's your life. I can't make you do anything." He swallowed, and looked Dean in the eyes. "Just maybe try something different than what I did."

Dean didn't say anything, and Sam had no more words for him either. So he turned away and went back into the motel room.

* * *

Victor knocked on the door of the parents of the first victim. After looking through the case files of those strange animal deaths, Victor had decided that they bore looking into. He didn't like the determination of them being animal attacks. It didn't feel right.

"This is going to be a waste of time," Roy muttered. He wasn't convinced that the animal attacks were anything other than that. Victor didn't have a chance to respond before the front door swung open.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Victor said. He pulled out his badge to show her. "I'm Agent Henriksen, and this is my partner, Agent Thompson. We're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind."

The frown already on the woman's face deepened. "But I already talked to an FBI agent this morning."

Victor tilted his head. "You did."

"Yes, he said his name was Agent Day," she said.

An unwelcome suspicion built in Victor, and he pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of Sam and Dean Winchester that he had on it. "Did Agent Day look like one of these men?"

She looked at the picture for only a second before nodded. "Yes, the one with the longer hair."

Victor's jaw tightened. "Ma'am, this man is not a federal agent. His real name is Sam Winchester. He and his brother Dean are wanted felons."

The woman's eyes went wide. "What?"

"We really need to talk to you ma'am," Victor said. "We need to know everything that happened while Sam Winchester was here."

* * *

 _I wondered how he'd react to finding out I was his soulmate. Guess now I know._

Isadora curled into herself on the bed. It's where she'd stayed all afternoon, despite Sam removing the cuffs again once he'd come back inside from his conversation with Dean. When Dean had come back in a few minutes later, he hadn't spoken to Isadora. Had barely even looked at her. They spent the afternoon in a heavy, awkward silence that not even Isadora's normally chatty nature could bring her to break.

It was easily the worst afternoon of Isadora's life.

Finally darkness fell, which was apparently the signal for Sam and Dean to leave and head to that bar where the supposed vampires were choosing their victims. Sam cuffed her to the bedpost again. "We'll probably be gone a few hours. There's snacks in the bags if you get hungry," he added, nodding towards the two bags he'd handed her earlier, which she'd set aside and hadn't touched.

Isadora nodded, and the brothers left. Dean still didn't look her way. After the door closed, Isadora slumped back against the headboard. _It's better like this. It's better if he just ignores me._

She didn't want Dean to be interested in her. Not with what she knew about him. She didn't want him to try and convince her that he was in the right, that his delusions were real, that she should give him a chance, because none of that was true. It wasn't, no matter how earnest or believable he'd seemed when he was showing her the articles that morning.

But Isadora couldn't erase from her memory the way Dean had looked at her when he'd seen her soul mark. That mix of stunned and hurt, like she'd betrayed him by keeping her identity a secret. She'd wanted to tell him not to touch her, wanted to defend her choices, but that look on his face had stolen all the words from her mouth and all she'd been able to do was stare at him. He'd whispered her name, his voice rough with emotion she couldn't parse out – or maybe just didn't want to parse out – and she hadn't been able to say anything.

Isadora shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory. "I'm not doing this," she hissed. "I'm not going to feel guilty for trying to protect myself." She ignored the nagging thought that pointed out that despite everything, Dean had never hurt her, never even threatened to hurt her. Had actually insisted he wasn't going to harm her at all.

She tugged the bags Sam had given her earlier close, desperate for anything to distract her. She upended both of them so she could see what was there.

There were snacks, though not the kind she would have typically picked out for herself. Sam had grabbed beef jerky, chips, a pack of Oreos, and a bag of trail mix. He'd also gotten her a toothbrush, which was the best thing that had happened to her all day, and some other basic toiletries. He'd also gotten her a change of clothes; a white cotton t-shirt, a dark blue sweatshirt, and two pair of yoga pants. He must have been unsure of the sizes to get her, because the tops were both mediums, and one pair of yoga pants were medium while the other was a small. Not her typical style at all, but it'd be more comfortable to sleep in than her current outfit. She also hadn't been wearing it for two days, so that was a big plus too.

 _Actually, as long as they're gone…_

She couldn't exactly change out of her jacket or blouse while cuffed to the bedpost, but she could manage to change out of her jeans into the more comfortable yoga pants. The soft, stretchy material was a welcome change.

Time dragged by, and Isadora ended up eating the Oreos and chips out of boredom. She wished they'd have thought to leave the remote for the TV in reach so she could have had something to do while they were gone. Something other than thinking anyway.

It was close to midnight and Isadora was starting to doze when the door banged open. Isadora jerked awake, blinking her eyes as Sam and Dean came in, quickly shutting the door behind them. "You're hurt!" she blurted out, shocked at the sight. Dean had a busted lip and cut on his chest. Sam looked to be in slightly better shape; his clothes were disheveled and he had a spot near his temple that looked like it was darkening into a bruise, but he at least didn't seem to be bleeding.

"Things went a little sideways," Sam said with a grimace. "We'll be fine."

He went to one of their duffel bags and started digging through it while Dean flopped down in one of the chairs. He tugged off his jacket with a mumbled curse. Sam stood, and Isadora saw he had a first aid kit in hand.

"Let me see," Sam said as he pulled the other chair around so he could sit facing Dean.

Dean shot him an annoyed look, but tugged his shirt off so Sam could get to the cut. It was long and thin, and Isadora would guess that it wasn't too deep. Some of her worry eased. Then her brain properly registered that Dean wasn't wearing a shirt and – _Oh. Wow._

Isadora looked away, feeling heat crawl up her face. _Stop being an idiot! It doesn't matter if he's hot. They left tonight to try and find someone to kill!_

The thought had the desired effect of cooling her flushed skin, and Isadora was able to look back at them without blushing. Luckily, it didn't seem like either of them had noticed Isadora's briefly flustered state. "What happened?" she asked as Sam began to clean off the cut with a disinfecting wipe.

She could see Sam glance up at Dean, but it seemed that Dean still wasn't speaking to her. Sam rolled his eyes then answered. "We found the vampires; there were two of them at the bar. We started to follow them when they left, hoping they'd led us back to their nest. Unfortunately, we were spotted. There was a fight, and they got away."

Isadora toyed with the ends of her hair. One the one hand, she was glad that Sam and Dean hadn't been able to kill anyone. But somehow, despite everything, Isadora still didn't like to see Sam and Dean hurt.

"You don't need stitches," Sam said to Dean as he tossed the used wipes onto the table. "So that's good news at least."

"About the only good news," Dean grumbled. Sam put a large band-aid over the cut, pressing down with a little more force than necessary judging by Dean's wince.

"You're set." Sam gathered up the trash to throw away and Dean went to the second duffel bag and pulled out a long sleeve t-shirt.

"So, is someone going to uncuff me?" Isadora asked. Sam dug the keys out of the pocket of his jeans and started her way.

The door to the motel room slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall. Isadora jumped and let out a startled yelp at the noise. Four figures poured in the room, three men and a woman. "Get them," the woman snapped.

Dean dove down to the duffel bag, snatching out a machete that had been hidden there. Before he could make it back to his feet, the woman and one of the men were on him. The other two men jumped at Sam, knocking him to the floor. Isadora stood frozen with horror, unable to do anything because she was still cuffed to the bed.

It only took seconds for the Winchesters to be pinned down. The woman and man had Dean pinned to the wall, the machete dropped to the floor. Sam was face down in the carpet, his arm twisted back in what looked like a very painful hold, one man's knee digging into his back. The third man spotted Isadora, and a crooked grin stretched over his face. "Hey, Maggie, looks like the hunters had a surprise treat hidden away."

Dean jerked against their hold, but the man and woman kept him in place. "Don't you touch her, you son of a bitch!"

"No?" the woman said, her tone mocking. "It seems only fair, given what you and your brother were planning to do to me and mine. Go ahead and start with her, Mitchell."

Mitchell stood, leaving only the one to keep Sam down. Isadora shrank back as he approached her, but with her arm trapped there was no where for her to go. "Don't worry," Mitchell said, "this'll hurt a lot, but only for a little while." A second set of teeth slid out of his gums as he spoke, all jagged points like the mouth of a shark, and Isadora thought her heart might stop.

 _He's a vampire. They're all vampires._

She was only distantly aware of Dean shouting in the background as Mitchell's hand clamped down on her shoulder with the strength of a metal vice. His other hand yanked the collar of her jacket and shirt away from her neck, then he leaned forward and sank his teeth into her.

Isadora cried out as pain like fire radiated from the bite. The pain snapped her out of her shock. He hadn't bothered to pin her arms, and Isadora slid her hand in her jacket pocket, her fingers curling around the handle of her metal nail file. Without stopping to think, Isadora yanked it out of her pocket and plunged it as deep into the vampire's neck as it would go.

The vampire jerked back, shoving her roughly away from him. Isadora cried out again as her shoulder hit the wall, sending a new wave of fire from her injury. She sank down to the floor.

"Mitchell!" Maggie loosened her hold on Dean, which was all he needed to twist free. He snatched the machete off the ground and with one blow separated Maggie's head from the rest of her body.

Isadora closed her eyes, pressing her hand against her injury to slow the bleeding. She wished she could shut out the sounds of the fight as easily as the sight. Seconds later the sounds did stop, and Isadora felt warm hands cupping her face.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Isadora blinked open her eyes to find Dean crouched in front of her, his face creased with worry. "You're going to be okay, Isadora. It's over. You're going to be okay."

There was blood splattered on his shirt, but Isadora didn't think it was his. "Oh, God," she whispered.

Dean glanced down at his shirt and grimaced. "Sam, give me the keys," he said. Sam tossed the keys to Dean and he unlocked the cuff. "Come on, Isadora," he said, helping her to her feet. He kept an arm around her shoulders, and Isadora leaned into him, uncertain if she could walk on her own.

She looked around. Sam was snatching up their bags of stuff. The four bodies of the vampires, all headless, lay around the room, their blood soaking into the carpet. Her nail file gleamed duly on the floor next to Mitchell's body, and Isadora shivered as she remembered the feeling of stabbing it into his neck. _I – I stabbed someone._

No. Not someone. Not a person. He was a _vampire._ A monster. And he'd been planning to kill her. Would have killed her, if Dean hadn't managed to get free and killed them first.

 _Dean was telling the truth._

They weren't serial killers, or anything else that the news had painted them as. They actually hunted down monsters and saved people. _He was telling the truth._

Dean lead her outside, and Isadora barely felt the cold night air. A vehicle spun into the parking lot, tires squealing, and it slammed to a halt. "Sam!" Dean shouted over his shoulder, moving towards the car and pulling Isadora with him. Same dashed out the motel, bags in one hand, the bloody machete in the other. Before Dean could get the car door open, two men in suits jumped out of the other vehicle, guns aimed at the three of them.

"Don't move!" they shouted.

Dean and Sam froze, Dean shifting so that Isadora was partially hidden from view by his body. Isadora stared. _What's happening now?_

"Put the weapon down, Sam," the black man ordered. "Put it down now!"

Sam hesitated, glancing towards Dean. He grimaced, but nodded imperceptibly, so Sam slowly lowered the weapon and placed it on the ground.

"Good," the man said. He and his partner took a couple steps forward, guns still trained on them. "Now kick it over here."

Sam did as ordered, the machete coming to a stop just past the white guy. "I told you I'd catch up to you, Dean," the black man said.

"Henriksen," Dean snapped. "You're making a mistake."

"I don't think so," Henriksen said. "Now here's how this is going to work; you're going to let Ms. Lewis go. Once she's out of the way, Agent Thompson and I are going to arrest you and your brother. Then the two of you are going to spend a nice long time in a jail cell, where you're never going to be able to hurt anyone again."

Isadora's mouth parted in a 'o' as understanding dawned. They were here to rescue her, and to arrest Sam and Dean.

Except Isadora didn't need rescuing, not anymore. And Sam and Dean didn't deserve to go to jail. They saved people, the agents had it all wrong!

 _This is my fault,_ she thought with a pang. If she hadn't called 911, they'd have never realized that Sam and Dean were in the area in the first place.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Dean," Henriksen said.

 _I have to fix this!_

Isadora glanced around frantically, trying to think of a way out. Her eyes landed on the machete past Agent Thompson, and a plan clicked into place.

"Let go of me, Dean," Isadora said. She kept her voice quiet, but didn't try to stop it from trembling. She needed the agents to think she was scared.

Dean stiffened, glancing down at her. "I said let go," she repeated. His face was an unreadable mask, but he did as she said, slowly lowering his arm and shifting away so her path was clear.

"Come on, Ms. Lewis," Agent Thompson said, motioning for her to move his way.

Isadora walked towards him, the cold of the asphalt seeping through her thin socks. She kept her pace slow and steady, until she was past Agent Thompson.

"Now," Agent Henriksen started.

Isadora snatched the machete off the ground, whirled around and had the sharp edge pressed against the side of Agent Thompson's neck before he could move. Her injury screamed in protest at the sudden movement and weight of the machete in her hands, but she ignored the pain and newly seeping blood. "Now you're going to do what I say." Isadora's voice didn't waver a bit.

"Ms. Lewis," Agent Henriksen said. "Isadora. You don't want to hurt Roy."

Isadora didn't just not _want_ to hurt him. She knew full well she was incapable of doing so. He was just doing his job; trying to save _her_. He didn't know that he had it all wrong, didn't know that there was no need to arrest Sam and Dean. Isadora _couldn't_ hurt him, not even to keep Sam and Dean out of prison.

Agent Henriksen didn't know that.

"What I want," she snapped, sending a glare his way, "is for you and Roy here to put down your weapons. Now."

Neither of them moved. Isadora's stomach churned. _They're going to call my bluff._ She tightened her grip on the machete, pressed it just close enough to nick his skin. "I said now!"

"Alright!" Agent Henriksen said. "Alright, I'm putting it down." He moved slowly, setting his gun on the ground.

"Your turn, Roy," Isadora said. He moved even slower than Agent Henriksen, and Isadora was careful not to accidentally cut him while he did. "Okay, good. Kick them over to the guys."

They did, and Sam and Dean immediately snatched the weapons up, pointing them at the agents. As soon as the guns were in their hands, Isadora back away from Agent Thompson. Once she was out of arms reach, she lowered the machete and dashed back over to the Winchesters. "In the car," Dean said, keeping his gun trained on Agent Henriksen. Isadora didn't hesitate, scrambling into the backseat of the car.

There were two gunshots, and Isadora jumped, the sound far louder than she would have expected. She whirled around, heart pounding, but both agents were still standing. The guys had shot two of the tires of the agents' vehicle so they'd be unable to follow.

Sam and Dean moved to the Impala's doors, then quick as a flash jumped inside. Dean turned the engine on, put it in reverse, and flew out of the parking lot.

Isadora listened for sirens or any other sounds of someone chasing them, but she didn't hear anything and Dean sped down the dark road. Finally accepting that they'd gotten away, she sank down in the seat, pressing her hand against her aching wound once more.

"Oh my God," she said.

Sam twisted in his seat to look back at her, and Dean glanced at her through the rearview mirror for a moment. "You okay?" Sam asked.

"I just threatened to kill a federal agent," Isadora said. She _wouldn't_ have, but that didn't change that she'd really threatened to do it.

"Yeah, you did," Dean said, his voice carefully neutral on the action.

"I – I stabbed someone in the neck," Isadora said. "With my nail file." The nail file that she'd then dropped, and left on the floor beside the dead bodies.

"You did that too," Dean said.

"Oh my God," she said again. "I'm a criminal."

"Yeah," Dean said. "After tonight, you probably are."

* * *

While Roy called in to report the situation and get back up, Victor walked to the motel room and looked inside. He swore at what he saw; four bodies, all decapitated. Roy came up behind him and let out a few choice curses of his own.

"We were too late," Roy said.

After speaking to the people that Sam Winchester had talked to that morning, they'd been able to get a description of the car he'd been driving. They'd put the description out to the local police department, and then taken up searching themselves, focusing on out of the way hotels and hiding places. It had been pure chance that Victor and Roy had found the Winchesters when they had.

A chance that, as Roy said, had come too late. Too late to save these four, whoever they had been. And too late to save Isadora.

* * *

 **AN:** Apparently updates can take either eight months or a couple days. I hope ya'll enjoy the fast updates while they last.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean pulled to the side of the road in an area that was dark, deserted, and in the middle of nowhere. "Why are we stopping?" Isadora asked. She wasn't sure exactly how long they'd been driving, but it had to have been less than half an hour. She was no expert on running from law enforcement, but she was pretty sure they needed to get farther away than this.

"Your neck might need stitches," Dean said. "We need to take care of it now."

"Oh," Isadora said. She'd been using her jacket to press down on the wound and hopefully stanch the bleeding, though she couldn't tell how successful she'd been. Sam and Dean both got out of their seats. Isadora slid to the side of the car away from the road and opened the door.

"Stay seated," Sam told her. He held a flashlight up to provide better lighting as Dean leaned over her.

"Let me see it," he said, carefully tugging the jacket away. She winced as the cloth tugged at some of the cuts. The vampire had bitten in the juncture between her shoulder and neck. It had felt like he'd gotten his teeth in deep, but it was hard to properly judge when she hadn't actually been able to look at the injury.

"Yeah," Dean said, "some of these will definitely need stitches."

Which meant, Isadora knew, that she was going to have scars. _Guess that means no more tank tops or strapless dresses for me._

Dean dug through the first aid kit and pulled out some alcohol wipes to clean the bite off first. Isadora let out a hiss at the sting. "Sorry," Dean said.

"It's fine," Isadora said. He was being gentle, but there wasn't really a way for this not to hurt. She dreaded the thought of the stitches, because they obviously weren't going to a hospital for them. "You wouldn't happen to have some pain meds though, before you start sticking a needle through my skin?"

"'Fraid not," Sam said, his tone apologetic.

 _Of course not._

Dean finished cleaning off the area and dug back through the first aid kit. He pulled out a pack of needles, and Isadora decided she'd rather not watch, instead looking out into the distance. She couldn't actually see anything beyond their small circle of light, but that hardly mattered.

"This is going to sting," Dean said, "but I'll be quick."

She sucked in a sharp breath the first time the needle pierced her skin. It hurt exactly as much as she had thought it would. Luckily, Dean kept his word and was quick about his work; Sam and Dean probably had plenty of experience stitching each other up if this was what their hunts were like. "Hurt anywhere else?" he asked once he was done.

"No, that's pretty much it," Isadora said. She might have some bruises from the night's events too, but there wasn't anything that could be done about that.

They loaded back up in the car and kept going. Exhaustion weighed down Isadora's limbs. It had been a long, long day, and she really wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep after everything. But there were some things they needed to discuss first.

"What are we doing now?" she asked.

"Putting distance between us and the town," Dean replied.

Isadora frowned. "That's not what I meant. I'm talking about, well, me I guess. What am _I_ going to do? We've established that I'm a criminal now. That means I can't go home. I'd just get arrested. I don't know anything about running from the law. So, what…what am I supposed to do?"

She knew what she wanted to do. She'd just sacrificed everything to keep them out of prison, so Isadora would rather stay with Sam and Dean. But given the way Dean had reacted to finding out she was his soulmate, Isadora wasn't completely sure that he actually wanted her around. She couldn't just assume; she needed him to say it.

Sam turned his head to look at Dean, apparently deciding to let him answer. "I guess," Dean said slowly, "I guess it depends on what you want. If you want to try striking out on your own, we can help. We know how to get fake IDs and things set up so you could make a new identity for yourself."

Her heart sank, because that was the option she didn't want to do. "Or," Dean continued, and hope flickered in her chest, "if you wanted you could stay with us. That's probably not your safest option but, well, it's an option."

Relief made her feel lightheaded. Or maybe that was the blood loss, Isadora wasn't sure. She stifled a yawn with a hand. "I think I'll stick with you guys then. Since that's an option." Her eyelids were heavy, and her exhaustion harder to ignore now that her course was settled. She shifted, settling down in the backseat and curling one arm under her head as a makeshift pillow. With the hum of the car as background noise, Isadora drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Pale early morning sunlight and the feel of the car slowing down helped wake Isadora. Her body ached, especially where the vampire had bitten her, and she still felt tired. A few hours of sleep in the back seat of a car didn't make for a super restful night. She could tell she wasn't getting any more sleep though, and the car seemed to be coming to a stop, so Isadora pushed up into a sitting position. That was when she noticed that at some point while she slept, Sam and Dean had traded places; Sam was driving, and Dean was sleeping in the passenger seat.

"Good morning," Sam said.

"Morning." Isadora stifled a yawn. They were pulling into a rest stop that amazingly had no other vehicles around.

"I thought now might be a good time for us to get cleaned up," Sam said, parking in a space close to the restrooms. He reached over and shook Dean's shoulder. "Hey, man, wake up."

Dean jerked a little, his eyes blinking open. "What?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"We're at a rest stop," Sam said. "We need to clean up before we hit a town."

He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. Isadora realized the two of them must be even more exhausted than she was. She might not have slept well, but the two of them had gotten even less sleep than she had, since they'd been taking turns driving.

"I managed to grab your stuff, Isadora," Sam told her as he opened the car door. "It's in the duffel bag."

"You didn't happen to grab my shoes, did you?" Isadora asked, remembering that her shoes had been tossed in a corner away from everything else. She wasn't super eager to walk in a public bathroom in only her sock feet.

Sam paused in the act of getting out of the car. "Uh, no. Sorry."

Isadora sighed. She guessed she should be glad he'd managed to grab anything, and her shoes _had_ been off in a corner by themselves. It had been a pretty rough moment. Still, she'd need shoes, and it wasn't like she could just borrow some from Sam or Dean. She started mentally crafting a list of things she'd need to get her hands on soon, and shoes went at the top.

Once they were all out of the vehicle, Sam got her stuff out of one of the duffel bags and handed it over. He had managed to grab her purse and the bags of stuff that he'd gotten her. Items in hand, Isadora retreated to the women's restroom.

She almost didn't want to look in the mirror. If she looked half as bad as she felt, it wasn't going to be a pretty sight. Steeling herself, Isadora turned and looked. The image that greeted her made her wince. "I look like I crawled out of a horror movie."

Most of her hair had fallen out of the braid she'd had it in, and it was definitely starting to be noticeable that she hadn't washed it in the past two days. Her skin was unusually pale, which only served to emphasize the circles under her eyes. And of course, the left shoulder of her blouse was stained by the now dried blood from her injury.

Slowly, Isadora reached up and tugged her shirt away so she could see the wound itself. She grimaced. "It's going to look like something tried to maul me." Which, okay, was basically what had happened. But Isadora didn't like the idea of having a permanent reminder.

 _There's not enough time for this._

The rest area was empty for now, but there was no way to know how long that might last. She didn't want to have to try and explain her appearance to anyone right now. Discarding her ruined blouse, Isadora washed up as best she could with paper towels and water. Then she pulled on the tee and sweat shirt that Sam had gotten her, and for once she didn't mind that they were too big. The extra cloth helped to cover up the stitches. She brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, then made use of her concealer to disguise the circles under her eyes. Once done, she studied herself critically. It was hardly her best look, but she was presentable, which was all that mattered right now. The only thing about her appearance that might raise a stranger's eyebrows was the fact that she didn't have any shoes.

She packed everything back up, but hesitated over her ruined blouse. Isadora didn't exactly want to carry it around, but where was a safe place to get rid of it? Would it go unnoticed if she buried it in the bathroom trashcan? Maybe, but it felt like a big risk. She shuffled things around, so that everything she was taking with her was packed up in her purse and just one of the plastic bags, and then tied her shirt up in the empty plastic bag to at least hide it from view. She'd ask the guys about where to toss it. Presumably this was the sort of thing they'd had to deal with before.

Isadora wasn't surprised to find the guys waiting for her when she left the bathroom. They'd washed up too, and changed out of their bloodstained shirts. They must have hit up the vending machines already as well, because Dean had an energy drink and Sam a bottle of water.

She held up the plastic bag she'd bundled her blouse in. "So, what am I supposed to do with the shirt covered in blood?"

"I'll take care of it," Sam said, stepping forward. "I spotted a dumpster I can toss it in."

Isadora handed over the bag, then Sam walked away leaving just her and Dean alone. They stared at each other for a second, neither of them speaking. In all her teenage daydreams, Isadora had never imagined that being alone with her soulmate could feel this awkward.

Dean cleared his throat and held out a bottle of water towards her. "We, uh, got you water, but if you want something else…"

Isadora took the bottle from him. "No, no, water's fine." Cold from the sidewalk was seeping through her socks; January wasn't exactly the best month to be hanging out outside without any shoes on. "Um, maybe we should head back to the car."

Dean's eyes dropped to her feet. "Right, yeah, let's go." He led the way back to the vehicle, going to the driver's door as Isadora slid into the backseat. She stashed her purse and bag on the floorboard, then settled back and sipped from the water they'd gotten her.

It felt almost absurd, when she thought about everything that had just happened, and now here she was, sitting in the backseat of a car drinking water like her whole world hadn't just been stood on its head. "Is this what life is like for you guys?" she asked. "Fight monsters, run from law enforcement, clean up at rest stops and hope no one spots you?"

He turned in his seat so he could look back at her. "Usually there's less running from the law; we're pretty good at flying under the radar most of the time." Right. Most of the time being when people weren't calling and reporting sightings of them. "But, yeah, this is kind of our life."

Isadora nodded slowly. It was a far cry from the life she was used to living, or any life that'd she'd consider remotely normal. _What have I gotten myself into?_

She couldn't see how she could have done anything differently though. There was no way she could have ignored Dean's presence when she'd first seen him and thought he was a serial killer, just as there was no way she could have let him and Sam get arrested after realizing that they'd been telling the truth. She'd made the best choices that she knew how with the information and resources she'd had at the time, and those choices had all led to this.

"Hey," Dean said, and Isadora refocused on him. "Look, I know this life is crazy, and if you're having second thoughts about coming with us – "

"No," Isadora said flatly, cutting him off. "Absolutely not. I mean, yes, you're right, this is crazy. You guys hunt down monsters that would have any sane person running in the opposite direction. But I just – I just threw my _whole life_ away to keep you guys out of jail. You are _not_ allowed to get rid of me. Not after that."

Dean winced. "I don't want to get rid of you, Isadora. I just don't want you to get hurt…again. This isn't the life I would've picked for you."

Not the life he'd have picked…with that sentiment, it clicked for Isadora why he'd never found her before, why he hadn't recognized her when they'd met. Dean had never looked for her. A simple google search would have done the trick; she was a fashion blogger, being easy to find online was part of the job. And the reason he'd never looked for her was because long before they'd ever met, Dean had decided he needed to protect her.

Her nervousness eased away. None of this had gone the way she'd imagined it would, and she couldn't even begin to guess what might be coming next. But she was suddenly sure that whatever happened, her and Dean, they could make this work.

"Maybe not," she said, "but it's the life _I'm_ picking now."

The passenger door swung open, and Isadora started. She'd been so focused on her conversation with Dean, she hadn't noticed Sam's approach at all. With Sam back, Dean started the car, and they pulled out of the rest area's parking lot.

"So, do we have a specific destination in mind now?" Isadora asked. "Or are we just…going?"

"South Dakota," Dean answered. "We've got a friend there, Bobby Singer. I think he'll be willing to let you stay with him."

"Stay with him," Isadora repeated. Her temper began to spark; hadn't she _just_ told him _five minutes ago_ that he wasn't allowed to get rid of her? And now he was immediately turning around and telling her he expected her to stay with someone else?

"It's too dangerous for you to travel with us on hunts," Dean said. "You don't know anything about monsters or hunting. If you came with us, you'd just be in danger. It's not happening."

Isadora wanted to argue with him, but, well, he was right. She _didn't_ know anything about monsters, or even fighting for that matter. If she was with them, she'd be a liability, which wouldn't only put her in danger, but them too. And as last night had shown, going with them and just staying in the hotel room wouldn't necessarily be enough to keep her out of the way either. Leaving her behind in a safe place was really the only logical choice in this situation.

That didn't mean Isadora had to like it though. It was another unexpected curve ball; she'd really thought she'd be travelling with them. If she was staying behind while they went off hunting, how often would she even get to see Dean? Just what kind of life exactly were they going to be building?

 _We're soulmates,_ Isadora thought stubbornly. _We'll make this work. Somehow._

She swallowed her frustration and said, "I guess your friend knows about hunting then."

"Bobby's a hunter too," Sam said. "He doesn't go on as many hunts anymore, but he's got a ton of information and resources he shares with other hunters. He helped teach us a lot of what we know."

Isadora nodded slowly. Sam's comment brought to mind something else she'd been wondering. "How'd you guys get involved in all this stuff anyway?"

They didn't answer right away, sharing a look with each other. Isadora got the feeling she'd somehow stepped on a landmine. She couldn't see how though; she felt like the question was an obvious one that anybody would ask.

"Same way most people get involved," Dean finally answered. "We lost someone."

 _Oh._ She felt a little bad for bringing up what was clearly a painful topic for them, and made a mental note not to ask any other hunters how they'd gotten started.

"It was our mother," Sam filled in without Isadora asking. "But it was a long time ago. I was just a baby when it happened. A demon got into our home, and…our dad got us out, but Mom didn't make it. That's what got Dad into hunting; he wanted to find the demon that killed Mom and get revenge. So, Dean and I kind of grew up in the life."

Isadora mulled over that information for a minute, wondering if she dared keep poking at the topic with her next question. Finally, she decided to just go for it. "Did your dad ever find the demon?"

There was another heavy moment of silence, and Isadora noticed the way Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Yeah," Sam said. "But it got away." His answer was tense and short. Between that, the way he'd been speaking of their dad in the past tense, and the generally heavy atmosphere her questions had generated, Isadora decided she didn't need to ask her next question. It seemed clear enough that whatever had happened when their dad had located the demon, the man hadn't survived. And if she didn't miss her guess, based on their reactions and the way Dean wouldn't even talk about the situation, it had probably happened relatively recently. Isadora decided that she didn't need the details.

"Are we going to get something for breakfast soon?" she asked. Not a subtle topic change, but Isadora figured they wouldn't care.

"Soon as I find something," Dean said.

"Good," Isadora said. "Also at some point, I need shoes." She paused for a second. "Actually, at some point very soon, I need a shopping trip. I have next to nothing now, and I need some essentials." Like shampoo. Clean underclothes. Pajamas. An outfit that fit. Her list was growing.

Dean glanced back at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling in a way that made her think he might be smiling. "Don't worry. We'll take care of you."


End file.
